#stand up / gallop on / nothing can be done by feeling so sorry for myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

Text

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (8/?)

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader/ Prince Caspian x Female!Reader

Warning: none

Word Count: 1.4k

Part Summary: Y/N travels deep into the woods to find Aslan

Masterlist

I race through the forest as I'm chased by three Talmarines. The trees around me are blurs of color, yet it still isn't fast enough. I start to think of what I'll do if I'm captured. It'll likely be the end. My mind travels to Caspian, the way he looked at me before I left. Then, my thoughts flicker to Peter. I can't leave him behind.

Suddenly, I'm jolted forward as my horse trips over a fallen tree log. I fall to the forest floor with a thud. The wind is knocked out of me and I roll onto my side in pain. Struggling through the pain, I pull out my katana, ready to fight to the end. Then, shouting ensues amongst the rushed galloping. As a Telmarine soldier races past me and falls off his horse, already dead. I study the body in confusion, how did that happen? I grip my sword anxiously, ready for another to come in my direction. Out of nowhere, another black horse flies directly at me. Instead of a soldier aiming a crossbow at me, my eyes are met with Caspian. He hops off his horse and rushes over to me.

"Y/N, are you-"

Before he can finish, a Talmarine arrow lands in the ground between us. Caspian falls to the forest floor and crawls to hover over me. He covers me from the soldiers. He shoots an arrow in the direction behind me. I whip my head around and the arrow knocks out another Telmarine. The body falls to the ground as the jet black horse runs off in the direction we came.

"Does this count as returning the favor?" Caspian teases as he catches his breath and lays beside me in the leaves.

"I'd say so," I pant.

As the two of us take a moment after nearly dying, I thank the heavens that I'm alive. I lay back down on the ground and tilt my head to the side to look at Caspian.

"How'd you know?" I ask quietly.

"I didn't," he admits, turning his head to the side to meet my gaze. "Five minutes passed before my worry drove me mad and I rode after you."

I stare into Caspian's jet black eyes and I'm drawn in. Everything about him is constantly pulling me toward him. The moment we met I had this overwhelming feeling that consumed me, body and soul. I can't ignore it anymore. Acting on impulse, I lean forward and press my lips to his. My hand cups his cheek and combs through his hand. Instantly, Caspian inhales sharply and glides his hand over my neck hungrily, bringing me in deeper. It's electrifying. Chills course over my skin and everything in the world becomes bright. I could stay here forever. Yet, we can't. I have to find Aslan. The war must end.

As hard as it is to do, I break apart from Caspian. The two of us pant for air, lingering mere inches from each other.

"I have to go," I whisper disappointedly.

"I'm coming with you!" He shifts to go, but I stop him.

"I have to do this alone," I tell him solemnly.

He shakes his head repeatedly in refusal. "No, I'm coming with you!"

"No, but you can't!" I sit up, growing worried with each passing second. "I know this is something I must find on my own. In the dream... it felt more like a vision, perhaps this what Aslan meant when he said I'm supposed to be here!"

Caspian cups my face and I lean into his touch. His thumb brushes against my cheekbone gently as he stares into my eyes filled with worry. "Make it back to me. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

I lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. "You too," I whisper in his ear as I pull him into a pleading hug.

After a moment, Caspian leans back to bring his lips to mine for a much calmer kiss. The world would be so peaceful if we could escape this war. Caspian and I could stay in the sun forever, just like this. ________________________________________

I ride deeper into the wood, tears threaten to fall from my eyes and my vision blurs. Parting with Caspian into the unknown was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm sending him back to the battlefield and he's sending me into the darkest parts of the forest. Please, to anyone who will listen, keep him alive.

Suddenly, my horse is startled and I scream as it stands on its hind legs. When it comes back down with a thud, a massive lion stands majestically on raised ground. The cat turns his head toward me and smiles. The warm sun glows on his golden fur and immediately I recognize him.

"Aslan!" I gleam, hopping off my horse.

He chuckles, greeting me with a bright grin. No longer afraid of the lion, I rush over and embrace him. We fall to the forest floor with laughter as if old friends. His arm wraps around my back and pulls me in close.

"I knew I'd find you!" I announce proudly.

"You followed your heart well," he compliments warmly.

I pause, starting to think of the millions of questions I have for him.

"What's troubling you child?" He inquires knowingly.

"The dream I had... when we talked... was it real?" I nervously ask.

"As real as us speaking here now," he smiles.

"So when we were at the river, that was real too?" I frown in confusion.

"Yes, Dear one," he nods.

"Why didn't you show yourself to the others?"

"I do show myself to them. I just come to them in different ways," Aslan explains vaguely, yet I understand somehow.

"I'm sorry I doubted my belief in you," I mutter guiltily, avoiding his gaze.

He tucks his paw under my chin so I'll look him in the eye. He smiles ear to ear. "You found your way to me, that's all that matters now."

"We need your help. I... I don't what to do," I grip his mane pleadingly.

"There is always a way," he assures. "Have faith."

"Always," I nod repeatedly with raised brows.

"You must remember that everything happens for a reason," he instructs. "Come," he rises from the ground. "I believe it's time to awake the forest, don't you?"

Suddenly, Aslan releases a deep roar and the leaves on the trees shake. It's as though the entire world has awakened. The ground begins to shake beneath me and I watch in awe as everything comes to alive. It's as though everything was frozen in time until Aslan returned. Everything is brighter somehow.

"Here, we must go tend to the others," he lowers himself again.

I assume he wishes for me to climb onto his back, so I do hesitantly. It's not every day I get to ride a massive lion! He prepares to leap off the high ground and I take fist fulls of his mane.

"Best hold tight," he chuckles and darts off the platform with a leap.

I squeal as we land on the forest floor and he darts off like a canon. I thought my horse was fast, but nothing is faster than Aslan. My mind wonders to Caspian, I hope he's alright. If anything happened to him... I don't know what I'd do.

"Aslan..." I hesitate to ask, but the thought is troubling me.

"What is it, Y/N?" He pants as he sprints.

"I had a question I was going to ask you in the dream, about Caspian and Peter-"

He already predicts what I'm going to say. "Trust your heart, Y/N. After all, it led you to me, didn't it? It's wise. Trust."

If only it were that simple, with each passing moment my emotions change. I'm facing two paths and I'm not sure where to turn. Aslan must feel my uncertainty as he starts to elaborate.

"Choosing isn't excluding. Both will remain with you in your heart and memories. You already know where your heart is leading you. You've known as soon as the path revealed itself to you. You must remove the distractions of others and listen to it," he advises.

"Choosing isn't excluding," I repeat to myself in a whisper.

My eyes fall shut and I zone in on my mind. I tune out the noise and focus on what I've experienced the last few days. As I start to remove the distractions, I begin to understand. The memories flash before me like flickers of light. I relive everything and comprehend the magnitude of it all. I suppose Aslan was right, I have known all along. I was just too afraid to see it.

“Now trust it,” Aslan instructs warmly.

_________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89 @i-hav-no-life

#prince capsian x reader #caspian x reader #prince caspian #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie #narnia imagine #narnia

114 notes · View notes

elvish-sky · 4 years ago

Text

Half: Old and New

A.N: So first of all, I just made myself cry while writing this. That’s never happened before, so be warned. Anyways, this is the first part of my new Legolas x Reader series, called Half. The series is based on a personal thing about me, and I wrote a little intro post that explains it and all the details here. I’m so unbelievably excited to be able to share this with you all, I’ve been planning it for three weeks at this point, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 1,776

Warnings: Death, angst, grief, comforting, there’s really nothing happy happening in this part.

*IMPORTANT: Just so you know, the reader only uses their right eye. Everything in their left just looks blurry.

****

Old and New

You had watched as the faceless black shadow cut down your kin like they were nothing. Sweeps of the blade felled man after man, and you were unable to lift your eyes from the terrible scene below.

You drew your swords, knowing you were supposed to stay hidden but not being able to bear watching your friends be slaughtered. You sprang down from the tree, lifting your blades as you sprinted to put yourself between the shadow and your brother. Parrying the stroke, feeling it resonate down your arm in all its wrongness, you could sense the air of terror surrounding you. You sensed something moving on your left and spun just in time to be whacked by the flat of the blade, your swords knocked out of your hands. Dazed from the blow, you tried to rise, watching as it advanced on your brother, who was lying helpless on the ground.

You scrambled for a dagger, a sword, any weapon that might be able to save him, and your hand landed on an arrow from the quiver still strapped onto your back. Seizing it, you threw it at the shadow, hoping to distract it more than anything else. It splintered as soon as it touched the creature, who didn’t even notice it, and stepped forward, stabbing your brother right in the heart.

“Hallas!”

You grabbed another arrow, standing, and cast it at the shadow only to watch it splinter as well. It turned towards you, and whipped its sword back at you, knocking you over again but not piercing your skin.

“Worthless girl.” It stood over you, and its voice sounded like all that was evil, making you feel like no light could ever pierce this overwhelming darkness. Your eyes followed its hand as it descended towards your face. It looked as if it was moving very slowly, but you knew this not to be true as you felt it strike your jaw, everything fading to black.

You blinked your eyes open, gazing up at the darkening sky as your brain tried to piece everything together. Why did your side hurt? Why was your jaw aching?

Oh.

You looked at the bodies of your fallen comrades, strewn around the clearing, and your eyes came to rest on the still form of Hallas. You crawled over to him, dragging his body onto your lap as you let out a scream raw with grief. You let yourself sob as you cradled him, rocking back and forth, but pulled yourself back a few minutes later, knowing that you needed to be thinking rationally.

If the shadow had slaughtered everyone at the Sarn Fords, then its comrades that you had seen riding off earlier had probably caught the Rangers sent to warn Aragorn, the chief. So it was up to you now.

You crept through the trees, making sure to stay silent as you made your way to the clearing, about five miles from the fords, where you’d left your horse, praying that the shadows hadn’t found him as well. Nahar, for that was his name, was peacefully grazing on the grass. You almost broke down at the sight of him but settled with stroking his velvety nose before swinging into the saddle. You knew you had to tell Aragorn, and you knew he was in Bree, so you tugged on the reins and Nahar set off at a brisk stride, living up to his namesake.

While you rode, you scoured your brain trying to figure out the shadows, ignoring your grief as best as you could. Some things were more important than sorrow. They were like nothing you had ever seen before, the fear that had crept over you was like nothing you had ever felt before. You thought back over stories you had heard, tales from your childhood. The Ringwraiths. It hit you, and you quickly nudged Nahar into a gallop.

You had arrived at Bree to find the town reeling. The shadows had appeared there two nights after you had fought one, and Aragorn, or as they knew him, Strider, had left that same night. Knowing that he was headed to Rivendell, you refused the night’s rest that had been offered to you and set off again.

Swinging out of the saddle, you handed Nahar’s reins to a startled stablehand and tore through the halls of Rivendell, heading for the terrace where you knew at least someone would be.

You heard shouting, and spun around the last corner, passing two small hobbits, and ran down the steps, seeing a small crowd gathered on the terrace. Not caring, you burst through the circle to skid to a halt in front of your chief.

“Aragorn!” You collapsed at his feet. “The nine walk again. Mordor has awoken.”

A silence fell, broken by the voice of another hobbit. “I will take it.” Everyone turned towards him. “I will take the Ring to Mordor.”

As he spoke, you glanced at the pedestal in the center of the group and saw a golden ring resting there. You recalled more tales from your youth, of great power and twenty rings, and put the pieces together. The one ring.

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.” You watched as Aragorn strode over to the hobbit, kneeling before him. “You have my sword.”

“And you have my bow.” A tall, blond elf stepped forward.

“And my axe!” A red-bearded dwarf joined him.

“You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done.” A tall man stepped forward, joining them.

You started as a hobbit appeared from your left, and then two more, all lining up as if forming ranks for battle.

“Nine companions,” declared Lord Elrond, “so be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

They all stood there, looking very regal and such until you rose from the seat next to Aragorn where you had been catching your breath.

“I shall join you.” You walked over, intending to join their little formation, but Aragorn grabbed your shoulder as you stood next to him.

“Y/N. You cannot. You must rejoin our kin by Sarn Fords.”

You held back tears at the name of the place. “They are all dead.”

You heard gasps at your words.

You watched Aragorn’s face as the realization sunk in. “Hallas?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to be able to speak.

“Oh, Y/N.” He quickly gathered you into his arms, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from breaking down right then.

You heard a cough and quickly stepped back, composing yourself.

“I suppose you shall be ten companions, then. Very well, I do not see the difference from nine.” You nodded your thanks to Elrond as the council dissipated, the members of the newly formed Fellowship heading off in pairs or groups of three. As they headed off, Aragorn quickly drew you to the side.

“I have to go speak with Gandalf.” You blinked back tears again at the prospect of being alone but nodded at him.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” You watched him jog to catch up with the wizard, greeting him with a smile. You sat back onto the bench. Hallas had never been to Rivendell, you were always sent to retrieve Aragorn or deal with the elves, but he had always wanted to. Looking around at the splendor you had become accustomed to, you finally let the tears pour, bowing your head as you mourned your brother, your better half.

A soft shuffling sound caught your attention. You lifted your head, blinking to clear the tears as the blurry figure of the blond elf came into focus. He was approaching from your left, which explained why you hadn’t noticed him until then. You felt a small bit of shame at not noticing, you prided yourself on your skills making up for your lack of sight but dismissed it.

“Y/N, right?”

You nodded.

“Aragorn has told me much about you. I’m Legolas.” He sat next to you. “Do you need to talk about it?”

You automatically started to shake your head before pausing. You would be traveling with him, Aragorn trusted him, and you really needed some sort of comfort.

Taking a deep breath, you spoke. “I was one of the Dunedain holding Sarn Ford against the nine.”

The concern clear in his eyes encouraged you to continue.

“I tried to stop them, but they killed everyone. My brother…” and on that word, your voice broke, and you tried to keep yourself from dissolving into sobs again. His hand started tracing soothing circles across your back, and you kept going.

“My brother Hallas was the last to die. It killed him right in front of me, I was powerless to stop it.”

Your thin thread of control over yourself snapped, and you let the grief take over again. The elf beside you was dismayed as you buried your head in your arms, body wracked with sobs. He gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and drew you in so that you were leaning into him, face now buried in his chest as he continued to move his hand across your back.

Legolas held you until your sobs died down into hiccups as you slowly regained control. You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry, Legolas, I did not mean for that to happen.”

His hand on your shoulder forced you to look into his eyes.

“It is alright. You needed comfort, and I was happy to provide it.”

“Does it get any easier?” You needed to hear the answer, needed to know if this pain would ever go away.

“No. It never does. I have watched as many friends died, and been powerless to save them. But I’ve come to learn that the best thing we can do to honor their memories is to not dwell on how we could not save them, but to live lives they would be proud of.”

Gazing up at him, you mulled over his words as he blinked back tears of his own.

“That is very wise.”

He forced a small chuckle. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

“No, truly. Thank you for that. It helps.”

He smiled. Not a big smile, but one of acknowledgment. You smiled back. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and drew you close again.

You sat there together for hours, together in your grief as preparations were made for departure. He mourned with you, and you with him, for losses old and new.

everything tag💖: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

legolas tag: @sheriffgerard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl

series tag: @claraofthepen @sheriffgerard

lmk if you want to be added to a taglist for this series!

109 notes · View notes

cacti-are-like-flamingos · 4 years ago

Text

The Golden Hand

° Assassin’s Creed Odyssey Imagine °

Chapter 3

Fem! Reader

Central Masterlist | The Golden Hand

Just how was he to take you back home when he didn’t even know where to start? Alexios had not the faintest idea on how to do that; pray to the gods? They don’t always answer, and when they do, it’s just downright confusing. His only choice was to continue on his journey and hope, that by some miracle, the answer would reveal itself soon. However, as such worries and doubts continued to plague his mind, they were soon drowned out upon his eyes falling on you.

He had to admit it.

You were utterly adorable.

Your eyes, round and soft, peered at the lively scene of the marketplace with star-like sparkles. Your lips drew apart ever so slightly, a smile merrily making its way on them as you expressed a fondness to how ancient, how....different this world was. He wondered how you felt about it all. Surely you were experiencing some extreme form of cultural shock. Two days could not possibly remedy it. Perhaps your joy was a façade, a guise for the truth of your feelings.

“Ah, yes! This tells of Odysseus’s voyages and his battles.” “And this?” “That one refers to the miracles of Zeus and the gods.” “They’re so beautiful.” You murmured, admiring the paintings on the pottery. By now, Alexios had shifted his attention back to you, pushing his thoughts all the way into the back of his mind as he came to realize that he has subconsciously followed you to the front of a small pottery stand. He watched as you kindly interacted with the clerk, the elder blushing at your beauty and compliment.

“Why thank you! Although my hands and body have begun to age and wrinkle, my passion for art has yet to fade.” You smiled. He watched you for a few moments before briefly turning his attention behind you. There, not far from the two for you, was Phoibe waving her scrawny arms around as she tried hard to get the misthios attention. Chuckling under his breath, the man leaned into your ear, breathing a short, “I’ll be back” before moving away from you. Heading over to the young girl, he gave her a look.

“How’d it go with Markos?” Phoibe asked. With a small grimace on his face, he replied, ”How it always goes. I didn’t get my money and I’m running another errand for him.” Humming, she settles herself on top of a nearby rock. Crouching to her level, the conversation continues. “Why did you let him boss you around?” Her words earned herself a gentle glare from the older male, “I owe him a debt. From the past.”

“Did you borrow drachmae?” Oh the innocence of youth.

“Not that kind of debt. Few people would take in a runaway they caught thieving. I was just a kid.” Unbeknownst to him, you had accidentally caught his words.

“Huh. I’m just a kid. And I’ve done pretty good for myself.” Phoibe stated with a sense of pride earning a snort from the man. “What do you want Phoibe?” She looked over to you,” Well, I was going to ask help first but -- who is she?” Her eyes ran down you figure, sparkling with curiosity. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn’t stop the small smile blooming on his lips as he watched you speak with another civilian. “She is...a friend.”

“She’s really pretty. Is she nice?” Alexios chuckles. “I only met her yesterday but I believe so. Now, what do you want Phoibe?” Getting back on track, Phoibe continued, ”You know Kausos?” He squinted his eyes in confusion, “The town on the other side of the island? Why?” She answered, ”People there are sick--my friend Kynna is too. There’s a blood fever. They say it’s a curse and that they need help from the gods.” “I told you, I’m not a god.” “But Ikaros--”,”Is a bird.” With an exasperated expression she yelled,” That doesn’t mean you can’t help!”

There was a moment of silence. It was his hardened expression against her own puppy yet desperate eyes.

She won.

“Agh! All right, I’ll look into it.” With that said, Phoibe let out a grin and a loud ‘Thanks!’ before running away. Sighing, the man ran a large hand over his head, massaging his temples in annoyance. First you and now this. Just how was he to-“Alexios? You okay mate?” Your voice was soft yet clear as you now stood beside him. With a glimpse he could see your concerned expression, your groomed brows knitted together. It was then that an idea struck him.

“(Y/N), since you are from the future, your people must’ve conjured many cures for various illnesses, no?” You gave him a look but nonetheless nodded. “Do you bear any knowledge of your time’s medicine?” “I’m no expert but I do have some knowledge. Although, you have to take into account that medicines are more advanced in my time. What we have, we have because of technology.” He nodded.

“We shall journey to Kausos, a town on the other side of Kephallonia. There is a blood fever. Hopefully, you can help.”

He had now realized that the two of you have managed to reach the docks. Lightly nudging you, he quietly whispered into your ear, ”

“Hopefully.”

Why did you get the feeling that today was going to take a turn for the worse?

...

The journey there was hell. There was no other way to describe it. What you could only imagine once lush and green and full of life and festivities, now seeming barren and full of death and burnt flesh. The putrid smell of corpses and of blood’s iron burning your nostrils to the point that you could barely breathe. Desperately trying to muffle the scent by placing your hand to your nose. And as the horse galloped, you watched the scene around you. Whole structures were burned either to the ground or near to it, smoke billowing out from their interiors in large clouds of black and grey. A pile of bodies, clothed in blood stained fabrics, laid beside the burning buildings, waiting to be cremated. A ring of black surrounded the pile from underneath, the dirt having been scarred from a previous cremation.

“By the gods, what has happened here?” You heard Alexios mutter under his breath as he took in the scene. Judging by the tone in his voice, you could tell that the sight had, too, taken him by surprise.

You stayed quiet, trying to focus on your breathing rather than the sound of the crows cawing loudly above your heads. It was then that you heard the cry of a man burst through the cawing, it was loud and clear.

“You’re murderers! Murderers!” What? Diverting the horse over to the origin of the voice, Alexios forced the animal to come to a stop right before a small bridge. Helping you come off the saddle, he led you over the bridge and into a situation you never thought you were ever going to be a part of.

“If the gods won’t help you, the sickness must be destroyed by our hands! We have no choice.” Spoke a man wearing dark clothing and a bow fastened around his torso. Two other men at his either side of him, surrounding what appeared to be a family.

“Help us!” Yelled one of the children as the two of you made your way over to them. His arms bound by rope.

Oh god.

“He won’t let us go!” Shouted the father.

Keeping your distance, you stayed behind the burly man. Rubbing the palms of your hands together as a way to comfort your hammering heart. Thoughts racing through your head. Alexios was expecting you to somehow save these people, but in all honesty, you had not the slightest clue as to how herbal medicine worked. I mean, you did know just a few things based on videos you had seen on YouTube but nothing that can truly save a person, much less a fucking village. Shit, now panic was setting in and that wouldn’t do any good. Steeling your nerves, you turned your attention to the conversation. Only managing to hear the last few sentences of the man’s explanation.

“...We couldn’t keep up with the bodies. It was spreading --- we had to intervene. “ He said.

“They killed our brothers! Our neighbors!” Countered the father, his wife adding on, “We survived the massacre, but he’ll kill us now!” The man, who you had now realized was most likely a Priest based on the clothing he wore, continued, “The gods have abandoned us. The sick must join the dead f we are to save the living!”

“You burned the whole village?” Alexios asked in disbelief. The Priest looked down in shame before answering,” Many nights were lost praying. We had to take action --- to scorch the blood fever out of Kausos.”

“Is there no hope for a cure?” The Priest shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he answered,” Nothing has worked. Sacrifice, prayers...” The wife interrupted,” Healers won’t come near us, soldiers won’t let us leave...The gods won’t answer our prayers!” Alexios sighed, shifting his weight to his left as he spoke, “But I know nothing of the plague.”

“There is nothing you can do. If you intervene, I will be forced the defend the gods’ will.” he priest warned. “We aren’t even that sick! We’ll get better!” “Nobody gets better! This is the only way all of Kephallonia will save itself from extermination!” It was then that the Spartan turned to you, his eyes having the slightest glimmer of hope.

“(Y/N), is there anything you can do? Is there any chance that you can save them?” His voice soft and quiet. It was almost drowned out by the crackle of the fires.

You gave yourself a moment to think. If this was a virus, then the only thing they could do was ride it out... but....shit, you’re not a doctor. The hell were you suppose to do, much less say?

You could feel a knot form in your throat, a bubbling sensation blooming within the pits of your stomach --- anxiety. There was a slight tremble to your hands, but why? Why were you feeling this way? This place was a game, no? It had no real consequence, right? No, no that kind of thinking doesn’t apply here, because while to you it will always be a game, you are still quite physically present in it. There are consequences to your actions. There are right and wrong answers. So what now?

Taking a deep breath in, you briefly looked back up into his own. And with the slightest shake of your head, he knew your answer.

Sighing, he spoke, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be involved in this.”

“We don’t have to die!” The mother protested. Slamming her bound wrist onto her lap.

You wanted to say something, anything. But nothing would come out. Your lips moved, but not a sound was made. Instead you hid behind Alexios, your lips sealed shut, as he spoke with the priest once more before motioning for the two of you to walk away. It was after ten steps that they’re screams were heard.

And, as if to add salt to the wound, a lone figure ran up to you.

Phoibe.

“You...you didn’t save them? What about Kynna? She’s my friend!” You felt a tug at your heartstrings upon seeing her heartbroken expression. Alexios, who stood just a foot in front of you, tensed his shoulders. A frown on his face.

“How could I make that-”, noting the increased volume in his voice, you placed a hand to his bicep. Upon feeling your touch, he breathed. “ Listen Phoibe. I know you’re sad about Kynna --- it’s a big loss. But look around you. You want this to be like this everywhere?” He gestured to their surroundings.

The young girl frowned, “No...but maybe Kynna would get better. They could be wrong about her!” “And maybe the sickness would take the family tomorrow. It’s impossible to tell.” The misthios argued.

Folding her arms, Phoibe looked to the ground, “I hope you’re right.”

You didn’t know what compelled you to speak, you just knew you had to say something to the young girl. Licking your lips, you kneeled down to her height. A saddened look on your own face.

“Phoibe, I know we have just met but...sometimes, good people die. No matter how much we don’t like it.“ She stared at you for a moment, her eyes flickering about your face. It was a only a moment later that she allowed herself to lean closer to you.

“I know...I just wish it wasn’t true.” And with that, she walked away.

Watching her figure slowly dwindle to nothing but a mere shadow, you breathed. The smoke still burning the inside of your nostrils.

“Alexios?” “Yes?” “Let’s...let’s go...please.” Your voice quieter than the occasional breeze. You heard him grunt, “ Of course.”

Realization didn’t come quick.

It was only after you had mounted onto the house, with your hands gripping tightly onto his armor, that the realization came to you.

You had killed someone. Rather indirectly, but still.

Innocent blood was on your hands.

How did it come to this? You were but a student just a day ago.

How did everything change so quick? So...in the blink of an eye?

Alexios would never tell you, but he could feel your tears dampen his clothing.

...

(A/N): Sorry this took so long, I’m still trying to figure out how I want this story to play out and for how long.

Hope you enjoyed!

106 notes · View notes

fatbottombucky · 5 years ago

Text

A Past Life *Geralt of Rivia x Reader*

Summary: could you write a female reader x Geralt who has PTSD due to past abuse and he accidentally triggers a flashback. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable writing this, thank you for your time

Characters: Geralt & Jaskier

Pairings: Geralt x [F]Reader

Warnings: Nothing, except for Geralt yells at Reader and it triggers past memories of a man who was not so kind to her- she also flinches when he steps forward to help, makes the whole thing very angsty. They aren’t together in this, although I can do another part where they are because I have an idea for a sequel to this

“Look at us,” the sprightly voice interrupts the quiet, “three best friends, out and seeking adventure in this land.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, looking over your shoulder at the bard- who had hired you as an armed bodyguard whilst he sought adventures to sing about. What you didn’t expect was his ‘best friend’ to be a Witcher, especially The Butcher of Blaviken.

“Hmm,” came the grunt of Geralt, on top of his horse, Roach, “you’re not my friend.”

The comment completely aimed at Jaskier. Although, what you’ve seen from these two it’s just their norm if anything. Jaskier annoys Geralt, Geralt, for some reason, puts up with Jaskier and sometimes even humours him.

“Excuse me?” Jaskier exclaims, “you’ve known Y/N, what, a day and she’s your friend over me? The bard who, not only, writes lovely ballads about you BUT,” he strides ahead and starts to walk backwards to look up at Geralt’s face, “but, I may add, spends his free time helping you on the road and aiding you in trying times.”

Geralt looks down at Jaskier for a brief moment, expressionless and releases a deep exhale through his nostrils.

“Yes.” Is the one-word answer he gives Jaskier, casting a downward gaze to Jaskier, “she doesn’t talk… or sing.”

Jaskier looks at you, a scoff leaving past his lips. You raise an eyebrow with a proud smirk, befriending Geralt seemed like an easy task- you wondered if he actually did have a lot of friends, due to the limited demands. Jaskier fell silent and walked beside you, clearly wounded from the encounter and a little pouty.

You cast a glance to Geralt, clearly unphased or doesn’t care. “He’s playing you, Jask,” you elbow the bard, “clearly you both are friends because he could've run off to get away from you but he hasn’t, has he?”

“Ha!” Jaskier grins, “that is true, Y/N, Geralt clearly loves me. He just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, I mean, you’re new and he’s clearly uncomfortable around you.” You hide your smile, till you look at Geralt who is looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow, disbelief written on his face. “Don’t worry Geralt, you’ll get used to Y/N, just takes time getting used to her ‘tis all.”

You smile at Geralt who only slowly blinks and looks away, ahead and into the forest you’ve been walking through for Geralt’s next contract. You like to think you’d be useful, but you’re not well versed in slaying monsters, especially the ones that Geralt goes after. Sure, you’ve killed a few Ghouls in your time but anything three times your size.

You had never gone up against anything like a Bruxa though. In fact, most of your life has been dealing with the worst kind of monsters: men. They hide their true intentions with cheesy lines and charming smiles, they lurk in the open and gain trust, they make you believe you’re wonderful and special. The worst type of monsters is the ones that hide so plainly in sight.

“Maybe I should write songs about you,” you let a small exhale and shake your head, “the girl who doesn’t fear The Witcher.”

Jaskier looks pleased with himself, almost going to strum on his lute, “There’s a lot of girls who aren’t exactly scared of him.” You smirk with a raised eyebrow, the indication of your words not going unnoticed by either, “plus there’s worse to be afraid of than some monster slayer.”

“Hmm,” comes the grunt of Geralt, his language of ‘leave me the fuck alone’ or ‘continue’, in this case, it’s the latter.

“Men,” it’s a simple word but it makes them both look at you, then one another, “people who hide their intentions and cast shadows on your life. I know a monster slayers beast, but people, well, they hide theirs and that’s… far worse; a surprise attack.”

It goes silent between you three.

The dull thud of Geralt hoping down from Roach, he ties her reigns to a tree and looks Jaskier for a moment and then you. You raise an eyebrow, apparently, you’re meant to understand that look, but you don’t and that makes Geralt of Rivia sigh.

“Stay beside Roach,” is his response, “least I need is to look out for you two.”

You huffed a little, you may not be a “monster killer” but you can look out for yourself. You don’t need some brute man keeping you safe, especially since past ones haven’t been so good at it. But you’re hired to look after Jaskier, to go where he goes and therefore you remained beside the bard.

Geralt disappears through the thick brush, swords on his back and not making a sound; not even with his feet. He can’t have been gone for more than two minutes before Jaskier loudly sighed.

“How am I meant to write songs about him and his fights if I can’t see them?” He crosses his arms, lute on his back and shaking his head, “not like he’s extremely talkative after a fight either, grunts and one-word answers, half the time I have to make up details.”

You felt for Jaskier. He only wanted to write about real adventures, real stories, you’ve heard his old songs and listened to him write his new. He’s improved and Geralt doesn’t seem to realise how important he’s played in that.

“What if…” you trailed off, “I go and watch? I’ll keep out of sight and I’ll tell you what happened?”

Jaskier looks torn, “I’m not sure… Geralt, he can be very, I think it’s best we stay here.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, “I can look out for myself, Jaskier. Besides, he'll be too concerned with the Bruxa than I.”

Keeping a firm hand on your steel sword you walk in the direction Geralt left in. It’s dark and silent, which has you wondering just how far Geralt is, but then you hear it. The slight shriek in the distance, the grunts that distinctive of Geralt. You quicken your steps and crouch down, finally in view of the fight.

Your heartbeat quickens and for a brief moment you think Geralt knows you’re here, he looks around briefly as if sensing you but quickly goes back into defensive mode. The Bruxa is not what you expect, it looks human and naked, long dark hair and fingers that finish into sharp nails. It’s ugly but powerful. It disappears from sight, still attacking Geralt, who looks different than before.

Dark eyes and veins, paler than usual. His whole stance is oozing with intimidation and the focus; it almost makes you wonder why you aren’t scared, it almost makes you understand why people do fear him. You watch in amazement at Geralt fighting, how agile he is despite his size. You revel in just watching him fight, although you feel bad because it feels almost intimate- like you’re catching him at his most vulnerable, despite it being the complete opposite of.

But the moment of revelling is cut short, the Bruxa vanishes again and instead of attacking Geralt it goes silent. He stalks around the woodland floor, sword in hand, dark eyes casting in every direction and listening intently for his moment to pounce.

You frown because nothing is happening. For a moment you think it might’ve runoff, how you wish it would have. A twig snaps behind you, you stand to full height and swiftly turn around, the sword being pulled effortlessly from its sheath. Before you can swing, it hits you and it’s claws scratch your arm causing you to also fly backwards.

“I told you to stay away,” his voice is coarse and deep, cuts through the tension like a silver knife.

You sit up as he stands before you, back towards you. A purple circle encompasses him and he fights the Bruxa with efficiency, the cloaking of the Bruxa gone and he’s able to see it’s every movement. He picks up your forgotten sword when rolling out of the way, it’s sights set on you once again but before you can even begin to stand two swords pierce its stomach; slicing in opposite directions and cutting it in half.

A long-awaited breath of relief leaves you, you sit up and hold your sliced arm.

“Igni,” Geralt holds a hand over the body and it sets alight before you. He whistles twice and a moment later you hear the galloping of Roach approaching, also a very confuddled Jaskier trying to keep up with her. “I told you to stay away,” Geralt directs at you, although not facing you.

“It’s my fault, Geralt, I should’ve-” Jaskier tries to defend but is cut off.

“You could’ve gotten killed,” you shakily stand up, brush yourself off and trying not to look like you’re in pain because it’ll only make the situation worse.

You shrug one shoulder, “I’m fine. I’m also sorry, I didn’t think it knew I was there.”

Geralt huffed, his face almost back to normal but it only makes him look angrier somehow, “Fuck you are. You’re bleeding and Bruxa scratches are painful, especially when not treated properly. No wonder you’re afraid of men, you haven’t seen any part of real life to know you should’ve been too afraid to even be around here.”

The mocking words slice through you, you narrow your eyes at The Witcher. But instead of retaliating you compose yourself, knowing already that getting into any sort of conflict with a man, especially this man, could result in much worse circumstances.

“It’s done now. You’ve killed it, I got in the way. I’ll patch myself up when we go back to the village to collect your reward.” You think it’s over, well you hope it is. You begin to walk in the direction Roach came from.

“No!” Geralt’s stern voice stops you, you turn on your heel and look at him wide-eyed, he’s angry. “It isn’t done. You put yourself and me in danger, you can’t just-” he steps forward but you step back, breathing heavily and you fall to the floor, trying to capture your breath.

Past memories of your life before this one. A life filled with loud yelling, stern stares and even crueller hands. Of a man, not even Geralt’s build, more like Jaskier if anything. Sparking fear into you, instead of the love he once promised to forever give you. A life of threat and pain.

A life you longed to forget.

You shut your eyes tightly, praying to the gods that you don’t look like an idiot. You feel someone settle beside you, snapping your eyes open and met with amber ones, he lifts a hand but instinct takes over and you shrink away from him. Almost cowering before him, you thought you’d gotten over this. The evidence clearly states you haven’t.

A gentle touch is placed upon your shoulder, no words spoken as he keeps a small distance but a hand still comforting you. You eventually return to normal, finally looking at Geralt with teary eyes and a watery smile to accompany it.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can mutter and Geralt shakes his head, a little ‘hmm’ leaving him.

Geralt is silent, kneeling beside where you’re huddled, conversation not exactly his strong suit. You watch as he thinks over his words, a more refined ‘hmm’ leaves his body like he’s thinking of how to word something.

“Please tell me the one who caused this is dead,” you exhale through your nose in amusement, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “otherwise I’ll have to make another stop.”

You shrug a little, “It was a long time ago, I’ve been running from that life. I do not need a Witcher to kill for my revenge,” Geralt tilts his head at your words. “I’m a fucking idiot. A guy yells and I cower before him, how am I expected to protect anyone?”

“Because you know, more than anyone, what it’s like to be put into a position you cannot break out of.”

The words hang in the air for a second before he stands up, taking your hand and pulling you up gently. He looks over your wound, grunting at the look of it, the adrenaline is fading and it’s starting to prickle in pain. Jaskier, for once, is quiet but concerned about you. Geralt even helps you onto Roach, leading the horse through the woods.

Sat in the Inn with a couple of ales and Geralt patching you up in the candlelight. You recount the ordeal to Jaskier, who is smiling now with a belly full of bread. After being told countless times by Geralt that you’ll be fine, it was nice to see he actually cared about you.

“You know, I might just write a song about you,” Jaskier informs you, sitting back with a smug smile, Geralt raises an eyebrow. “We make a great team, don’t we. Where shall we go next?”

You frown a little, “I think, I’ve gotta chase up an old life.” Geralt snaps his eyes to you, though doesn’t say anything. “I left a book open, it needs to be closed. We all have to face our monsters at some point,” you sigh and sip your ale.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got a Witcher as a friend,” Jaskier states and nods at Geralt.

You don’t miss the gentle ‘Hmm’ from Geralt.

Part Two

(Lmao this is over 2K words, wtf! Hopefully, this is okay. I didn’t make this romantic, but if you want a second part I will make it romantic, I already have an idea for it. Just let me know- Rosalie)

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia one shot #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt one shot #geralt imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher one shot #jaskier x reader

2K notes · View notes

ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Text

Not Perfect - Henry Deaver x Mistress

Warning: 18+ smut/mentions of cheating/mature themes/strong language/spousal conflict. **mentions of impregnation and fertility issues in this part**

Note: Hello wonderful people! This will be the second-last chapter of HxM :O This one is written from Henry’s POV, as requested! I have enjoyed all the prompts and discussion and theories surrounding this series and thank everyone who joined in from the bottom of my heart. It’s been SO much fun. I’ll make sure the finale is long and jam-packed full of smut and fluff, since the last few chapters have been rather sad and angsty. So much love to you all. Enjoy!

Read past Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost

I tried to keep myself from bothering her while she was in the shower, but my impatience won. To be fair to her, I let twenty minutes go by before I knocked on the door. When she didn't answer, I cracked the door open and smelled her vanilla sugar body wash suffusing the vapour.

"Sweetheart?"

She took a few seconds to answer, "Yes?"

"Just wanted to check on you. Will you be much longer?"

"Why?"

"I have a surprise for you."

Another long pause before, "I'll be out when I'm finished, Henry."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought. She's pissed. Back at the office, she seemed fine, but I assumed, after a few hours rolling around with the sour news, she'd come to a different conclusion. I had something prepared to soften the blow, as I suspected she might take it harshly.

When she came out with her hair still wet, wrapped in a thick robe, her eyes avoided mine. Instead of waiting for her to come to me, I got up and cornered her in the kitchen, but when I touched her shoulder, she shrank away.

"Honey... Is everything okay?" I asked.

She looked up at me like I was a stranger. I touched her cheek, and her eyes dropped. This was something new. I'd never seen her react with anything but joy when I grazed her skin. She must have been angrier than I thought.

"Hey, what's the matter?" I asked her.

She took in a sharp breath through her nose and shrugged. "Nothing. Why?"

"Well... I don't mean to poke, but... It seems like you're upset with me."

She shook her head and turned from me to open the cupboard. The bottom cabinet was empty, and I watched her stretch up on the tips of her toes to grab a glass from the second shelf where she couldn't reach. I chuckled and took down a cup for her, but she didn't look at me with her customary smile or even a glance.

"Baby... I'm sorry, okay? I know you're mad at me about the job thing, but... I mean, I warned you something like this might come around. And I promise I'll find you something just as good, maybe even better."

She filled her glass with ice from the freezer, nodding, lips sealed in a line. I frowned and tried for her hand, but she evaded my grasp by ducking into the fridge for the water pitcher.

"Please, sweetheart. I can't stand it when you're cross with me," I groaned.

"Sorry," her voice came out stunted. She drained half the ice water and cleared her throat, still unwilling to lock eyes with me.

The stale way she addressed me filled my chest with a sensation I'd long forgotten. I hated to say it, even if it was only in my head, but the way she stood off reminded me of how Mary would greet me at the beginning and end of each day. This brought on a wave of nausea I could not shake. My stomach twisted into knots too complicated to untangle without her bright smile and words of assurance.

"So, what's the surprise?" She asked.

I blinked from my anxious state. "I'm glad you asked, beautiful. You up for a car ride?"

"Hmm, not really, but I guess I have no choice."

"Aw, don't be like that. It'll be fun! I promise. Can you be ready to go in half an hour?"

"Sure," she said, turning from me to get dressed.

The closer we got to the hotel, the more curious the look on her face grew. She'd travelled to this place a hundred times before, and the familiar surroundings brought on a lot of questioning glances. I answered each of them with a smile, trying to get her hand to hold or touching her leg when I could. We pulled into the lot and went inside to check-in.

"What are we doing here?" She asked in the elevator.

"You'll see."

I unlocked the door to our room and ushered her inside, where I had champagne waiting on ice and rose petals sprinkled over the bed and floor.

"Why did you bring me here, Henry?"

"It's the room where we first... You know. This is where it started."

She'd already had a look around and decided she wasn't impressed. Crossing her arms, she turned to me with heat in her eyes. "You mean to tell me you took me back to the room where you first cheated on your wife? Is this supposed to be some big romantic gesture? Because it's a little obtuse."

"Sweetheart, no!" I scoffed. "Don't look at it like that. This is where I fell in love with you! Right here, in this hotel, I saw you and wanted you in my life. Just looking at your face made me want to fix myself. And, maybe I didn't go about it smartly, but can you blame me? A beautiful, intelligent, caring person like you... I couldn't let you get away or risk you meeting someone else and losing my chance."

It started in her eyes. The inevitable wave of tears shrouded her irises, bleeding onto her cheeks. Then her whole face crumbled like a wall of sand washed away by the tide. I watched, horrified, as she dropped onto the love seat and hid her face behind her hands, shoulders convulsing.

"Henry! What's wrong with you?" She sniffled.

I sat next to her but she pulled away. "Hey, hey! What did I do? Honey, I thought we had an agreement about the job?"

"It's not the job!" She sobbed. "It's everything else. It's you. You're... A fake."

Then it was my turn to act shocked. "Excuse me? What on Earth are you talking about? I'm not... I'm not fake. This is exactly how I feel. I've wanted to do this for ages."

"You're a cheater," she whispered.

"It's a little more nuanced than that. You know what I was going through!"

"No. You've cheated on me. Mary told me what you did when you went to speak to her. She said you slept with her to get out of the suit... So she would drop the negotiation. You fucked her."

My blood turned cold in my veins. "I absolutely did not do that! What do you mean Mary told you I fucked her? That's positively absurd. When did you speak to her?"

"She tracked me down after work today. She waited for me in the parking garage... Said she wanted to warn me about you. The real you. Then I called the lawyer's office to verify if she'd dropped the negotiation, and she did... Just like she said."

I slid off the love seat and crawled before her, grabbed her knees, hands, forearms... Anything she'd let me touch. "No. No, no, no. That did not happen! She just said that to piss you off. To turn you against me because she has no other moves. Don't you see? She's throwing every stone she has, hoping to break something. Baby... I'd never do that. Never!"

"But you cheated on her. On your wife. Someone you gave a ring to and made all the same promises as you're making to me."

Heat and water stung my eyes. I blinked away my fiery tears and tried to make her look at me, but she wouldn't pull her gaze from the wall.

"Mary despises me. She made my life hell after I tried for years to make her happy. With everything I had, honey... Everything I fucking had in me, I gave to her, and nothing was good enough. Can you blame me for straying? For falling in love with somebody else? Yes, I'll admit a hundred times I didn't approach it right. I should have ended things before pursuing you. I should have called her that same night and told her I wanted a divorce, but I didn't. I made a mistake. A huge mistake. It's the worst thing I've ever done, but it led me to you, and I don't regret it for a second. I'm sorry. I can't rightly sit here and say I wish I didn't drink with you in this hotel that night."

"She told me you cheated on her before then."

I produced a scoff from my gaping jaw. "Of course she did! Anything to disparage me... Sweetheart, I never cheated on her before then. I'm sure she thinks so, but nothing could be further from the truth."

"Why would she make that up? She said you and your colleagues are all known for it."

"I don't know. Fuck, I don't know! Don't you see what she's trying to do? She wants to drive us apart! I never touched her that day when I went to talk with her. How could you possibly believe her?"

"That's not all Mary told me."

I'd had enough of the misinformation and let her eyes follow me to the other side of the room where the champagne bottle sweated, and so did I. There was no reason for me to be nervous. I knew the truth—it was only a matter of making her believe me. But what if she didn't? What if she bought Mary's pack of lies and I lost her?

I'd undone my marriage with a lie. There was no reason another well-placed deception couldn't shatter us too. I understood what she meant about the room being an obtuse decision. There I was, standing where I'd first kissed her, on the brink of her telling me goodbye. Full circle. I deserved this.

"What else did she say? That I have a porn addiction? That I fuck hookers? You know... Just because some men I've worked with are involved in sex scandals doesn't mean I am, or was, or support them! I've been clean and straight-laced my whole life. You know this, sweetheart. You know me. I'm not the type!"

"It's hard for me to know what's true. On the one hand, you're sweet and shy and an amazing boyfriend, but on the other... You're a cheater. No matter how you break it down, you have the capacity for deceit. And if you cheated on her, who is to say you won't cheat on me?"

To hear her doubts pouring from her lips and eyes brought me to my knees before her once again. I swallowed my galloping breath, choking down the acrid taste of desperation. She had to believe me.

"If that's what you believe, then what do I do next?" My voice teetered on the question. "Do I help you pack your things and let you go back to your place? Should I give up? Is there a point to me begging? If you say there is, I won't stop until you believe me. I'll do anything."

She sat quietly while I sat back on my haunches, imploring her to look at me. Another tear rolled down her cheek, and she sighed, shaking her head and pressing her fingers against her forehead.

"So you're saying that everything she told me is a lie? You didn't fuck her to get out of the suit? Even though she rescinded? You never cheated on her before you met me?"

While she laid out her questions like instruments of torture, I waggled my head in denial.

"There was no incident in Thailand with your colleagues? You never once betrayed her trust even in the slightest way?"

"No. No, no, no, no, no. Never. You gotta believe me."

"Then you're not sterile like she said?"

"No, no—" My tongue turned to stone in my mouth. A great chill came over me, cascading down my spine, spreading along my ribs like needles of hoarfrost. I couldn't feel my hands, though they shone with sweat. Suddenly, I couldn't hear. A piercing tone muffled her voice, unable to penetrate my punching-bag head filled with wet cotton. My legs buzzed like static, asleep under my weight, and immovable. Top-heavy, I clutched the arm of the love seat and tried not to pass out. Deep breaths. Deep, shaking, useless breaths.

"Henry?" She asked, gripping my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She spoke through a film, voice echoing distantly as I tried to recover, but I only sunk deeper into catatonia. A gun had fired, deafening me to everything but the pain sizzling in my ears, spreading through my limbs. For an excruciating minute, I thought I was in the grips of a heart attack.

"Henry!" Her voice came back with point-blank clarity. I looked up at her reddened face, and she gasped.

"You're white as snow, Henry! Are you all right?"

"I..."

"Don't move. I'll get you some water."

She filled a glass in the kitchenette and brought it to me, but my lips pasted shut. I couldn't move my hand to take the cup.

Then I broke.

Tears like drops of sun bled from my eyes, blinding me. My throat opened, shuddering first from the groan building in the bottom of my stomach. I shook once, my whole body whipping, and then I was on the floor. I don't remember her lifting my head nor weeping in her lap as she hushed me and combed my hair. There was only pain. Deep, years-old pain I never knew existed.

Somehow she moved me to the bed and stripped me of my jacket. The ring box must have slipped out of the pocket in the process. I saw it on the bedside table once when I managed to open my eyes between bouts of tears. She stroked me like an injured dog, panting and convulsing in agony, and continued pushing air from between her teeth.

"Henry, you're okay. You're fine. Just breathe. Breathe for me, please."

By the time I recovered enough to speak, the ice in the bucket melted into a pool and the champagne bottle's label peeled off, sodden bits orbiting the glass. Crushed rose petals stuck to our clothes. The sun was long gone. She shifted me gently off her lap and went to turn on the light. I winced, eyes still bright red from crying. When she returned, she stood at the foot of the bed. I'd curled up, helpless and exhausted, but finally unfurled my limbs and sat up.

"Henry... Are you all right?"

I wished to forget, to start the day over from sunrise when we'd nuzzled each other in bed, but if I could rewind time, I wouldn't stop there.

I took in a long breath and sighed. My stomach grumbled emptily as she watched me like I was a baby bird who'd fallen from its nest and didn't know what else to do with me besides watch me squirm.

"It... It all makes sense now."

"What makes sense?"

"What you said... What she told you."

"But you said it was all lies. Do you mean—?"

"No. Those were lies. And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove it, but..." My throat closed up again. I fought off the emotional tide with a series of deep breaths, and she was patient. "I remember that day so clearly."

She angled her head in question, and I continued. "We failed. Over and over. We tried to have kids for a long time. At some point, we went to get some tests done to see if it was us. I had an important trip around the same time, and she assured me I could go, and she would phone me with the results. So, I left and never got her call. I thought nothing of it, chalked it up to difficulty reaching me."

She came around the bed, sat down and took my hand. "What did Mary tell you?"

"Nothing," I murmured. "She told me the results were inconclusive... That we'd had a major bad luck streak, and it could have something to do with her cycle—she wasn't always regular—but they didn't know for certain. There were other tests they could run to determine why we weren't conceiving. Mary told me not to worry, to focus on work because we were about to land a deal that bought us our current building and that we could keep trying until..."

"What if it's not you? What if it's her?"

"It's me. I know it is."

"But if everything she told me is a lie, why wouldn't she lie about that too?"

I shook my head. "It just makes too much sense. Mary's qualms were never with herself. It's always me. I'm the useless one—the sackless one. She knew she had an atom bomb in her arsenal, and she waited for the precise moment to drop it. That's what she does. She knew how badly it'd hurt me if you were the one to tell me I can't..." My voice tapered off.

"Hush now. Let's not think about this anymore."

I buckled again, this time on her shoulder. My eyes stung with salt again, running thin down my beating cheeks. Her hand crossed her body and carded through my hair as she soothed me with gentle assurances. I wiped my face dry and remembered the ring on the table.

"I was supposed to ask you to marry me tonight," I admitted.

"I thought you were going to wait until the divorce was finalized."

"Yes, that's right. But I couldn't wait. All I can think about is making you my wife."

"I don't think anyone on the planet has ever been fired by and proposed to on the same day, by the same guy," she giggled. "That has to be one for the record books."

"It's been a rollercoaster for both of us."

"So?" She gave me an expectant look.

"So what?"

"Are you going to propose to me, Mr. Deaver?"

"Right here? In this room? You said it yourself, this was a poor choice of setting. I should have taken you elsewhere. Cairo, Las Vegas, Vancouver... I should have booked us a beautiful room somewhere in the mountains and made love to you first. Not brought you back to the old job you hated and cried all over your blouse."

Suddenly, she swung off the bed, snatched up the ring box and circled. I followed her, fearing the fate of what lay inside the royal purple velvet.

"Fine, Henry Deaver. If you don't propose to me, I guess I'll just have to propose to you."

"Oh, no, you don't. No, no. You can't deprive me of this! I've wanted this for a long time," I said.

"Well, you blew it. So, now it's my turn," she knelt next to the bed and opened the box without looking inside. The diamonds twinkled along the band, catching every remnant of light left in the room. My emotions got the better of me again, and I had to crush another tear before it burned a trail down my face.

"Henry," she began. "I know you've made mistakes, and you've paid for them. And I apologize for letting someone's vengeance blur the way I see you—"

"Sweetheart,"

"Quiet, please. Let me finish," she said, brows drawing together. I curled my lips around my teeth and clamped down to keep from flapping. "Look, I don't want you to think you're not worthy of forgiveness. You are. Even if you acted out of desperation, out of hurt and loneliness and perhaps a bit of spite, you are a good man, and everyone knows it. I knew that before we ever spoke more than you ordering coffee. I mean, who the hell tips twenty on a two-dollar cup of coffee? Who feeds a whole row of parking meters, so people don't get ticketed? Who refuses a blowjob because they don't want to be an inconvenience?"

We shared a laugh.

"Please, get off your knee at least," I offered my hand.

She climbed onto the bed and sat next to me, finally taking a look at the ring inside and closing her eyes to keep from welling up. "I won't ask how much you spent on this."

"It's best not to," I supplied.

With a sigh, she leaned her head on my shoulder and passed me the box. "I don't believe what Mary said, and I was foolish to even entertain her lies. I know you truly loved her and wanted a family. I'm still just having an issue understanding why she threw that away. Because you can't have children? In this day, there are ways."

"She was never quite right for me. Her religion is her biggest determiner, but... It's not all her fault. She had a rather stringent upbringing. Lots of scripture, and even more punishment. I knew that about her before we got together. I thought I could show her what happiness was like."

"I hate to say it, but I'm glad she drove you out because now you're with me, and I can show you what happiness is like."

I clutched her close and notched her head under my chin, stroking her hair and breathing in her fresh scent as she circled my waist in her arms.

"You already have. More than I ever knew was possible. Every moment with you is like I'm winning the lottery over and over. When I wake up and see you next to me, it's like I never opened my eyes, and you're just an angel in my best dreams."

"I love you, Henry," she whispered.

"I love you too," I replied, snapping the ring box shut behind her.

She sat up and looked at the purple velvet containing her engagement ring, then up at me with big, curious eyes. I set it aside and took her hands.

"Let me have a do-over. I can't propose to you today, in this room, after all this crying. It's not perfect."

"What if I propose to you first?" She asked, snickering.

"It won't count if you don't have a ring," I replied.

"Who needs one to ask the person they love to marry them?"

"As a pre-engagement gift to me, I'd like nothing more than for you to let me propose to you properly. When the time is right."

"Somewhere in the mountains?"

I smiled softly and caressed her knuckles. "Yes, somewhere like that. Maybe under some palm trees, or out in the middle of the ocean under the stars. Or we can go sky-diving, and I'll propose to you at ten thousand feet."

"I'll go up in a plane with you, but I am not jumping out of it!"

"Fair enough. Bad idea," I laughed. "However I do it, I want it to be perfect."

"I know, Henry."

"Not on the day I fire you or in the room where we first kissed."

She squeezed my leg. "I understand the sentimentality you were going for and I appreciate it."

"Thank you, but you're right. It was a terrible idea. Can you forgive this colossal misstep, my love?"

"Consider it forgotten. And Henry—?"

"Yes?"

"We'll have our family. One way or another. You will be a father to several wonderful children," she said.

"Several?" I feigned an exasperated breath.

"At least two. A boy and a girl. Maybe three, if we can handle it."

"Oh, and what's the third one? Another boy?"

"We'll see... But probably another girl. Just saying!"

"I'll take whatever I can get."

#bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #Bill Skarsgård #henry deaver x mistress #castle rock fanfiction

90 notes · View notes

kaeyas-beloved · 4 years ago

Text

The Emperor’s Daughter in Wonderland

This is an IkeVamp/IkeRev crossover inspired by this post... I couldn’t resist myself.

I had this long note (this is still long though) about how I lost confidence because I read the notes on the original post and I thought I skipped over some huge points with the armies growing suspicious and some other things. Like there wouldn’t have been any real plot holes or anything but I still panicked for a moment (cause I thought people wouldn’t like what I wrote). But to sum up I think I fixed it and basically I focused more on the MC/Reader being the daughter of a suitor and the ‘it all goes down hill from there’ part of the original post - letting MC have the spot light because of that...And I also still tried to sprinkle in some general suitor romance (not a lot though cause it wasn’t the main focus) There are some dad!Napoleon moments too cause who doesn’t like it when the residents are dads

Still I hope who ever reads this still likes it! (Sorry if this isn’t good and I hyped you up for nothing...)

Warning(s): Descriptions of violence, injures, blood, roughly 5 swear words and potential OOCness because I haven’t finished all the IkeRev routes nor am I fully confident in writing Napo’s character...

~~~

Call it what you’d like, Napoleon could tell something was going to happen.

Maybe it was just his protective fatherly side coming out for all to see, she is the only remaining family member he has left, his wife (her mother) gone along with his human life, but the ex-emperor knows better.

It’s a gut feeling, something will happen.

The screech of Jupiter, who sat perched on a tree branch not too far away, alerted him that someone was coming. Looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the mansion, out walked his daughter, satchel and coat in hand, a smile on her face.

“Finished saying goodbye?” Napoleon asked, stepping back from the horse he was petting. (Y/N) nodded, attaching the bag to the saddle of the horse.

“Yeah. Supposedly they’re all going to miss me? I don’t know why though. Even old man Leo said something about how ‘the passerotta is finally leaving the nest’.” she sighed, exasperated at the nickname the renaissance man used.

“What have I told you about calling him that?” Her father asked, raising a brow. She turned from the animal to face him.

“To not to?” Napoleon nodded.

“Right.”

“So I can call Comte ‘old man’ but not Leo?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Exactly.” he smirked and she couldn’t help but sigh again, shaking her head.

“You don’t make sense sometimes you know that?” Chuckling, Napoleon mussed up her hair, his way of showing her affection. It wasn’t as jovial as it usually was though, or relaxed for that matter, and (Y/N) picked up on it quickly.

“Stop worrying. Remember, I had you and Uncle Jean teach me how to protect myself. Nothing is going to happen to me...” her attempt to ease her father’s anxieties didn’t go unnoticed, but it also didn’t help that much.

“I’d feel better if you brought your rapier...”

“I would, really, but I don’t think the townspeople would take too kindly to me having it. It doesn’t help that I’m a woman either, because, you know...”

“I know... Just, be careful” Had it not been for the way his jade green eyes stared at her, waiting for her to promise that she’d come home in one piece, (Y/N) may have laughed at the way he was acting. It was uncommon to see this underlining anxiousness in his expression. Usually when she was going out he was laid back, dropping the parting words of ‘be safe’ before going on as usual It sounded a little cold but he trusted in her to make the right choices.

But this time he told her to be careful. Not safe, careful. In a roundabout way it was a sign that he cared and worried for her and didn’t want anything to harm her.

It also showed that something really had him on edge about her trip to London. The best thing to do though is to give him what he wants, which is reassurance.

“I’m only getting ink for Uncle Arthur, but if it eases your mind, I promise to be careful.”

“Thank you.” he mumbled, “Do you have enough Rouge?”

“What did I say about not worrying?” The look he gave her told her to just tell him, “Oui, I do. I even packed more than needed just in case. You never know when your thirst can suddenly be stronger than usual.”

“How much is more exactly?”

“I’m bringing eleven. If I drink half a day every other day I’d have enough for about a mouth plus some”

“I know I said to be prepared but you really are an overachiever sometimes you know that?”

“Oui oui, I’m aware! Au revivor papa, I’ll see you in a week, alright?” With a smile, the two shared a parting goodbye hug, (Y/N) mounting the awaiting horse. A kick of her foot and she was off at a gallop, waving back one last time before disappearing over the horizon.

The dread in the pit of Napoleon’s stomach didn’t cease, even as he went back into the manor, and when the time was right, it’d be revealed just why that feeling was there.

“Damn it...” Oddly enough, in some form of twisted fate, the rapier that she left at home would’ve been beneficial in that moment.

Honestly, no one thought that she’d fall into some fantasy land, one on the brink of war, obtain the power to break magic spells and then get kidnapped with the intention to be eliminated. By a research center trying to take over the world for themselves no less.

Scrapes and bruises marked her entire body along with the stains of blood. She’s lost way more than humanly possible for her to still be standing, a large cut running down her arm and a rather deep puncture wound to her abdomen. Yet she continues to fight - she has to.

Landing a final punch to the last robed disciple, a pounding pain thrummed throughout her entire body, though the one that sourced from her mouth was by far the most painful.

“I-Ignore it...” she told herself, staggering over to a fallen man that was taken care of earlier in the fray of fists and magic. Unhooking the belt, she took the sword from him, stumbling up to one of the horses that the enemy rode in on.

The truth was she wasn’t doing too hot. Turns out, no matter how much you practice or how much stamina you have, deflecting magic attacks takes a lot out of you. On top of that she was exerting herself to defend herself, while bleeding, and it all amounts up to her being on the brink of unconsciousness.

“Why do you wield your blade?” A conversation she had with her father when she was younger came to mind as she leaned against a tree, the need to catch her breath too strong to brush off.

“Huh?”

“Why do you fight (Y/N)? What’s your reason?” Right... he asked that when she was younger, feeling like a failure for not being able to fight like her dad could. Having been so young she was nearly on the brink of tears, about to give up ever learning the art of the sword.

“T-to protect and save others...” was her frail answer. Her father smiled, liking that her heart was in the right place.

“Good. Now remember that when you’re about to give up. You can’t achieve that goal if you admit defeat.”

“O-okay! I won’t ever give up!”

“C’est ma fille...” he said patting her head.

Growing up surrounded by some of the greatest men in history came with it’s perks, a vast knowledge ranging from science thanks to Isaac all the way to piano lessons with Mozart are under her belt.

Though, if she had to choose, the greatest skill she acquired was how to protect the weak. How to raise a sword to save lives, never to take if at all possible.

Her new found friends will die if she doesn’t move now.

“Merci papa...” she whispered, finding the strength to push herself upright once more. Climbing onto the back of the horse a new, burning determination filled her.

She will save those that have found a place in her heart and, when everything’s said and done, return home to her awaiting family.

By time the clearing to the Central Quarter came into view the sun had just started to set, bathing her surroundings in an orange glow. The closer she got to the opening the more she was able to make out, yet the sight wasn’t an uplifting one.

The Chosen Thirteen from both sides lay beaten on the cobblestone ground, exhausted and beat up. Even the kings, strongest among them all, struggled to get back on their feet. Lancelot sat against a wall while Ray was at the foot of the man behind everything - Amon Jabberwock. The other officers weren’t any better, most struggling to grasp their weapons but too drained to do so.

And in the hands of Amon was a bigger than normal magic crystal, the glow emitting off of it bright, its spell nearly cast.

The sight only fueled the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.

Drawing her blade from its sheath, she was ready to face any foe that may hinder her in helping bring peace to Cradle. Aligning the course the horse is to take, (Y/N) let go of the reins, her voice ringing out.

“Ray, move!”

The King of Spades did as commanded, rolling back and out of the line path of the stallion. Leaping from it, she barely landed on her feet, the hand free of anything outstretched. Instantly the harsh glow subsided, the gem now nothing more than a useless rock.

The call of her name mixed with gasps of surprise, and perhaps relief, fell on deaf ears, her (e/c) eyes focused on one man and one man alone. Sweeping his legs out from under him, Amon dropped to his hands and knees, the tip of her rapier pressed against his neck.

“Amon Jabberwock-!” her voice echoed with power and authority, a cold look in her eye.

Admittedly, it shocked those around her, no clues given during her stay that would allude to her having this hidden side. But the sight of her standing there, a will to fight in her eye, even as copious amounts of blood poured out of her, was astonishing and uplifting enough to repair their morale.

And had the residents of the mansion been here to hear and see her, they would've remarked how similar it felt to her father when he faced his foes.

“As a temporary member of the Black and Red Army, I hereby arrest you on the count of treason against the country of Cradle!”

“H-How...?” Amon stuttered, voice laced with anger and on the brink of snapping further into madness, “you should be dead with those wounds!”

A weak, almost pained sounding laugh left her lips as she pushed the blade a little harder, lips parting, “I’m nothing like the others...”

“Monster...” he gasped, fear in his eyes as he unsuccessfully tried to scoot away from her. By the way he acted, she could tell that he caught sight of the pointed teeth in her mouth.

“Mm... in a way, maybe I am...”

“You won’t kill me!” The way his voice shook made it sound like he was trying to convince her to not slit this throat right there and now. Fortunately for him, she wasn’t that kind of person.

“While it’s true that I shouldn’t raise my sword like I am now unless I am willing to take the life that’s in my hands, you would be right, I won’t be ending your life. I learned all I know from my father, one of which was to never take a life, for fear it turns out I can’t live with the consequences. That doesn’t mean I won’t beat you and bring peace to Wonderland” Refusing to let another word be uttered from him, (Y/N) swiftly butted the hilt of the sword to his neck, knocking him out.

“There she is!”

“Lord Amon!” Shouted more robed men from behind. The disciples reached for, presumably, magic crystals from their pockets but stopped at something she said, the saber pointed their way.

“You can fight me, but I just took down your leader. If you chose to fight me just know that I do not fall easily and I will fight till the bitter end for what is right... So, what will you do?”

“C-crud, let’s get out of here! I’m not chancing it!” Her words reached them and made it clear that they didn’t stand to win. So, scouring away, the enemy tucked tail and ran.

“Seems you’re all still alive...” She breathed, turning around to face the army soldiers. All of them smiled at her, glad that she was alright (for the most part) and that this war was over.

Yet life is no fairy tale, something tragic usually hits in the best of times like these. Wise words from a guy who’s not all there (thanks Shakespeare).

She saw it before the words reached her ears and the next moments were a blur of colour.

Someone from the shadows raised a sword of their own, the blade about to pierce the one person dearest to her, the one that stole her heart while in this new, unfamiliar world. He was unguarded with nothing to defend himself, about to die should she just stand there and not take action.

Mustering the last bit of energy she had, she parried the attack, the sound of steel on steel ringing in the still evening. The clash lasted less than a minute, the lesser vampire the one to be impaled, unable to block the second strike. Still, if she was to die, he would go down with her at least.

No, she didn’t kill the attacker, merely used all she had to stab him in the leg, bringing him to the ground, the force and angle of the impact rendering him unconscious.

No one said anything, their minds unable to full register the events that just transpired. The pained words of their friend snapped them out though and all eyes went to her.

“I-I’m glad yo-ou’re safe...” she wheezed, eyes meeting the ones of the man she loves. A sense of calmness overcame her, he was safe, he would live. Maybe, just maybe, she could die a peaceful death knowing that she was able to protect the one she cares about. Her duty was fulfilled.

The only regret she’d bear would be the regret of being unable to say goodbye properly, both to the ones around her and the ones ignorant of what’s going on, as they await her return back in the Land of Reason.

Something that seemingly won’t be happening now...

This was her bittersweet end.

…

….

…..

A sharp intake of air. Vision blurry. The smell of antiseptic chemicals and whisky. These invaded her being and briefly, when she was able to at least think, she thought that this was a weird form of Heaven or Hell to be put into.

Though when her sight cleared up some more it was revealed that, no, she wasn’t in an abstract afterlife, she was just in Kyle’s infirmary.

(Y/N) laid in that oddly comfortable bed for what felt like hours, which were really only minutes, before she found the strength to sit up, if only a little.

A slip of pink paper which rested on the nightstand caught her eye. Picking it up she read the note, relaying that, if she was to wake up, that everyone wanted to let her know that the war is truly over and that her boyfriend was safe, all thanks to her. A breath she didn’t know she was holding was finally let free, muscles relaxing.

It was some form of a miracle that allowed her to still be here, like the world was telling her it wasn’t time for her to leave just yet. Not that she was complaining or anything, but she couldn’t help the giggle that came with the thought that the similarities between her and her dad are starting to get weird.

The click of the door pulled her from her funny thought, and in walked the last face she saw before blacking out. He really was okay, just like the note said.

“We have to talk”

“We do, don’t we.” she smiled and he returned it, pulling up a chair. For the rest of the day (assuming based on the light that poured in through the window) the two lovers talked, expressing how glad they were that the other was okay, what happened after she collapsed and what their next steps would be. When everything was done, her boyfriend climbed into the bed with her, mindful of the injuries around her whole body, and with such gentleness pulled her flush against his chest.

That evening they slept in each other’s arms, calmed by the sound of their mixed breathing and heartbeats, because later that night they’ll have to part again.

“Tell me again what you are?” Kyle rubbed his temple, trying his hardest to wrap his head around her claim. The hangover he had wasn’t helping in this situation either.

“I’m a vampire, a lesser vampire to be more exact”

“I get that, but what is that?”

“Don’t worry too much about it, just know that if I was to bite you you wouldn’t turn and I’m not immortal. Now go drink some water. Can’t believe magic is a thing yet you’d get hung up on mythology...” she muttered the last part, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I would just like to go on record and say I knew all along” Edgar piped up, his usual innocent smile on his face. Zero and Jonah scoffed.

“And how did you exactly?” Zero asked his teacher. The Jack of Hearts smiled just a little wider, fetching something from his pocket. The glass glittered in the moonlight.

“So that’s where my last bottle went! You had it!”

“Indeed. You did well to hide it Alice, but not well enough if I was able to find it”

“Why do you have it anyway?”

“I saw our dear Alice drinking it one day. She told me it was wine but by the viscosity I could tell she was lying. It also smelt like blood. So, I did some digging around her room while she was gone.”

“Of course, only you would be able to smell it and instantly recognize it like that...” Jonah hissed under his breath. The statement went unheard by all except the subject of the comment, who simply continued to smile like he heard nothing.

“That would explain why ya sometimes left the training grounds all of a sudden too when someone got hurt” Fenrir pointed out, the Black Army nodding along.

“We just thought you were squeamish...” Luka mumbled.

“That would also explain the report I got saying we had a shortage of blood...” Lancelot spoke up, staring down at (Y/N).

“I... got hungry and didn’t have enough?” she shrugged, a nervous smile on her face while averting her eyes to the side. Really, it was half a lie, she was hungry. It was just that the liquid was right there at the time and it’s scent was so sweet to her - she couldn’t help herself!

“But,” the King of Hearts continued, a small, soft smile blooming on his face, “I’m willing to pardon it, you did save us all. So, thank you, for all you’ve done. Is there anything you’d like as a reward?”

“I’m honored King Lancelot, but right now I think I have to go home. There are some people that are no doubt missing me.”

“Very well. Then you are welcomed back at the Red Army anytime”

“The Black Army will welcome you too, little lady” Sirius added, Ray nodding in approval.

“Right, the room you used will be waiting for you should you ever come back”

“Ohhhh please come back Alice, the Black Army just won’t be the same without you!” Seth whined dramatically.

“Thank you... all of you” (Y/N) gave a closed eye smile, the light of the moon illuminating behind her. A hand suddenly cupped her cheek, the contact warm and prompting her to open her eyes.

“I will see you again right?” he asked, low enough that only the two of them could hear it.

“Yes, just as we promised last night.” she whispered back, leaning in for a kiss, one he returned.

The rabbit hole that connected their worlds opened up, a spotlight like light shining onto it. Pulling away her hand clutched the bag she came with, along with the items she’s obtained, and she turned one last time. Her eyes roamed over each face a final time, stopping on his.

“See you later everyone!” A chorus of goodbyes paired with waves and she stepped backwards, falling down, down, down the hole like she did just one short month ago.

“The man at the stall said he saw her here one night, there must be a clue.” Napoleon stated, eyes hard with determination, certain that there has to be something here linking to his missing daughter. Deep down though he’s consumed with emotion, anger, fear and a great sadness.

Anger at himself, he should’ve been more persistent with her taking her rapier. Then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The fear and sadness are a mix of the same reason, he’s sad and afraid that he’ll never see her again, that he’s lost her even after promising to protect her from the moment she was born.

And yet, as the third week of having nothing he’s starting to lose hope, and the others can tell.

“Napoleon...” Jean whispered, placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. “I think it’s time to head back to the inn...”

He wants to stay out longer, search every nook and cranny of this damn park a thousand times more.

“Jean’s right...” Isaac added, tilting his head and gesturing with it in the direction of where they’re staying, “we can look some more in the morning if you want.”

“Maybe you’re right...” the Demi-vampire sighed, beginning his slow, reluctant trudge to the cozy London inn.

“Oof! Ow, I guess it’s a bumpy landing on the way back too...” the three heard the thud and rustle before the voice, but Napoleon was already sprinting in its direction.

“(Y/N)!?” The call of her name erased the pain of the landing and any other insignificant thought, her eyes darting around through the trees.

“Dad!?” She shouted back. An urgency to her father again surged through her.

He sped faster, urged on by the sound of her voice. It’s her, he knows it is, and she’s alive.

Emerging from behind a tree Napoleon comes to a grounding halt, eyes wide at the sight in front of him. She’s there, right there, albeit a little banged up, but she’s safe - that’s all that matters.

Rushing up he engulfs her in a hug, loosening it only minimally when she let out a hiss of pain.

“Where have you been? Who hurt you?” his questions are rushed, breathless as he looks her over, the amount of bandages on her alarming.

“You’ll never guess...” she suddenly smiled.

“What?” He questioned, the smile on her face making him believe that she wasn’t taking this seriously. Yet her next words shocked him, enough for a visible reaction to show, and it became obvious that the two would have to have a long, long chat.

“I fought in and won a revolution...and I protected the weak... just like I said I would...”

…

“Oh I also have a boyfriend...”

“You have a what???”

Fun fact: at first this was going to be the MC/Reader as Leo’s daughter and she would’ve fixed the Black Army’s stuff or Fenrir’s gun, impressing them, but!!! We all know that ~war~ is a thing in IkeRev, so behold here we are!

[Masterlist]

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikemen revolution #ikevamp x reader #ikerev x reader #black army x reader #red army x reader #ikerev black army #ikerev red army #platonic x reader #daughter!reader #ikemen napoleon #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution black army #ikemen revolution red army

118 notes · View notes

janiedean · 4 years ago

Note

hey, can you talk about this: why is it that even after jaime saves brienne from rape & jumps into a bearpit for her, brienne still expects the worst from him and thinks he wants her to kill sansa? can b ever fully trust and love jaime? will brienne ever accept that jaime loves her and is capable of good or will she always expect evil from him/ be insecure + expect him to pull a ronnet? i think this will cause problems for them if they ever get together. do you think it would be a deal-breaker?

tldr: no because the moment you read her affc povs you see she’s way past her initial distrust and actually that scene is... the turning point? like you don’t know that because you don’t have her pov, but anyway I think I’ll just break it down and be done with it since I had wanted to for a while - regardless, premise: you can see exactly how far she goes with trusting him/changing her mind about him by seeing her dialogue choices in asos before, as in, she calls him ser for the first time after he saves her from being raped and when they’re in the bath she snaps at him the moment he goads her about renly and she’s naked in front of a man and she feels most likely guilty for the loss of his hand, and the moment he faints she catches him and she volunteers to dress him/clean him up after, like... you don’t do that if you don’t want to and if you don’t care about the person some regardless. ANYWAY SO let me just find the whole scene.

SOOOO, counting that he’s doing this just after he basically broke up with cersei...

The wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman’s clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. “Blue is a good color on you, my lady,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.” She does have astonishing eyes.

Brienne glanced down at herself, flustered. “Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her to me.” She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. “You look . . .”

“Different?” He managed a half-smile. “More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that’s all. The stump’s the same. Close the door and come here.” She did as he bid her. “The white cloak . . .”

“. . . is new, but I’m sure I’ll soil it soon enough.”

“That wasn’t . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

right, so, when this entire scene starts you have the worst flirting that ever existed but like basically that’s pretty much what it is - they haven’t seen each other in a while right, and first he goes like UH UGLY AND AWKWARD, then in the span of three lines he decides that the dress looks nice on her and it fits her, and when he opens his mouth he calls her my lady and compliments her on her appearance and her eyes and then thinks SHE HAS ASTONISHING EYES which like... jaime you were thinking she was ugly three lines ago where is the truth, the truth is that he’s hella attracted to her, he’s not admitting it to himself but he can’t help saying it and so hey hello brienne, you just showed up in my room where I summoned you after having you freed and I’m telling you you’re hot!! when you never heard it before from a guy ever!!!

brienne at that point is FLUSTERED and feels like pointing out the bodice is padded as if he hasn’t seen her naked, and she’s obviously afraid af because she’s standing near the door, and then she goes like ‘you look...’ while most likely STARING at him like OH MY GOD HAVEN’T SEEN HIM IN WEEKS LOOK AT HIM jesus, and then he starts going off with the self-deprecating humor telling her to get over here, she does, she starts again with the white cloak, he goes all defensive self-deprecating again (I’ll soil it soon enough, presuming that she still thinks that of him)... and then she goes like I was about to say it becomes you, which means I’m telling you A WHITE CLOAK FITS YOU AND IS BECOMING ON YOU, which given the significancy of the white cloak/kg/the fact that he confessed her he believed in his vow/knighthood when he was fifteen in the bath... she’s telling him being honorable becomes him, which sorry but does not to me qualify as ‘expecting the worse of him’. now:

She came closer, hesitant. “Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About . . . about King Renly, and the shadow?”

Jaime shrugged. “I would have killed Renly myself if we’d met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?”

“You said I had honor . . .”

“I’m the bloody Kingslayer, remember? When I say you have honor, that’s like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood.” He leaned back and looked up at her.

problem is: he is on the self-deprecative spiral wanting to distance himself, which I have a feeling is because he’s a) upset because of cersei from before b) not exactly processing his feelings re being into her, so everything she is saying he’s shutting her down, which makes her hesitant - first he shrugs away having gotten her out of prison and talking for her to loras when if you read that part you know he cares about getting her out, she’s all like oh YOU SAID I HAD HONOR!!! **, and he immediately shuts that down too with the it’s worth nothing if I do, so basically she’s there all ‘!!! ** !!!’ and he’s back to shutting her out, which... considering how brienne is would make her lose a lot of courage here, right? right. also: SHE CALLED HIM JAIME in the beginning, which means... she feels like they’re on a familiar enough level that she can use his name without the ser before and she’s not calling him kingslayer. like. she’s absolutely expecting the best here.

“Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton.”

“You gave her to him?” she cried, dismayed. “You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn . . .”

“With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn’s dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark.”

“Not Arya Stark?”

“You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off to wed Bolton’s bastard.” He lifted his stump to point at her. “I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You’re not half bad with a sword, but you’re not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself.”

now, for the chapter where grrm knows that words mean things: the definition of dismayed is : experiencing or showing feelings of alarmed concern or dismay : upset, worried, or agitated because of some unwelcome situation or occurrence, which means that the moment jaime goes like ‘oh and I gave arya to roose bolton’ she is UPSET at hearing that... because she didn’t expect that? she changed her mind, she thinks he’s honorable, he saved her from being raped, he’s complimenting her, she’s trying to compliment him, she thinks they have an understanding, he told her all of that...... and now he’s telling her he gave arya back to the boltons? when she thought he cared about their oath and he freed her? like what the fuck jaime? obviouly she’s upset, but because she already expected better and he’s a disaster emotionally stunted person who just moved on from 17yo of emotional maturity and he can’t have that conversation without going in self-defense. he points out he can’t do that but anyway then tells her it’s not arya.. because he didn’t want brienne to go after her ie he cared about her well-being and now he throws in a compliment too (you’re not half bad with a sword) and she’s most likely like wtf, also he gestures at her with the stump which cersei refused to interact with before and brienne doesn’t even flinch at that, but never mind let’s go on.

Brienne shook her head. “When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin . . .”

“Oh, he knows. Lannisters lie, remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say that she isn’t Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared.”

“Why would you tell me all this, if it’s true? You are betraying your father’s secrets.”

The Hand’s secrets, he thought. I no longer have a father. “I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters . . . and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn’t saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey.”

“The wench’s mouth got stubborn. “I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner. Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was a trial, Ser Loras said.”

as stated: she shakes her head, which is a thing you do... when you’ve just been given conflicting information, which he just did because he just told her HEY MY FATHER JUST BASICALLY LIED TO HIS ALLY, but poor girl is not a political shrewd mind because a moment later he explains her that they both knew and so on, and at that point brienne is understandably like WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS IT’S TREASON, which it technically is.... and then he remembers tywin disowned him and they argued so ‘I no longer have a father’, but he doesn’t tell brienne that, goes back to self-defensive, goes like ‘well I’m a good lion and I pay my debts’ and then only mentions what his brother and sister think, counting that brienne doesn’t know tyrion and know what he does about cersei... that might make her think that he’s taking their side, and now she is getting defensive pointing out it couldn’t be sansa and so on, but like... he basically has given her conflicted reactions, now she’s back on the defensive... as she generally is unless it’s with someone she trusts.

“Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?”

“My cell faces the sea. I heard the shouting, though.”

“Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men. They’re keeping him in a black cell till they kill him.”

Brienne looked at him. “You do not believe he did it.”

Jaime gave her a hard smile. “See, wench? We know each other too well. Tyrion’s wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he’d never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother’s kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head.”

now they discuss the trials blah blah blah, and brienne figures out he doesn’t believe tyrion did it just from the tone/the way he says it - because the facts are kind of straight, so it must be the tone of voice, and then what does he says as he gives her a *hard smile*? that they know each other too well. and then he goes and says a bunch of stuff that’s not true (sansa killed joffrey, tyrion kept silent), goading her again...

“No,” Brienne said. “It was not my lady’s daughter. It could not have been her.”

“There’s the stubborn stupid wench that I remember.”

“She reddened. “My name is . . .”

“Brienne of Tarth.” Jaime sighed. “I have a gift for you.” He reached down under the Lord Commander’s chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.

Brienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. “Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors.”

“Nor I. There was a time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it.” Before she could think to refuse, he went on. “A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price.”

... at which brienne absolutely falls for it and protests but then he goes like ‘oh there you are’, so he was most likely either testing her or pushing her to say it again/assure himself of what he was doing, but for her... it’d be even more confusing. she blushes when he calls her wench, and then when he says he has a gift she’s scared af until she sees what it is, and when she asks what it is first he does the self-deprecation thing again, then says he wants it named oathkeeper, so far so good... and then says it comes with a price, which makes it sound like she has to do something in return to have it, and how would that sound to her after this entire conversation when he hasn’t told her that he’s cut off ties with anyone but tyrion and he’s been basically hostile/sarcastic/has rebuked all her compliments?

Her face darkened. “I told you, I will never serve . . .”

“. . . such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground . . .”

Brienne’s homely face twisted in fury. “If you believe that I would harm my lady’s daughter for a sword, you—”

“Just listen,” he snapped, angered by her assumption. “I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?”

The wench blinked. “I . . . I thought . . .”

now here’s the point but like... she assumes he wanted her to do what cersei wanted when he hasn’t given her any other hint he might want to do otherwise throughout the exchange and basically never told her anything straight and she had come in all excited and wanting to compliment him and presuming the best, and then he gets angry because she assumed wrong... but what was she going to assume? then again: asos!jaime handles a lot of his interactions like an angry teenager because again he started moving on from it during this book and he has no idea of how to deal with her or that that kinda attitude would confuse the shit out of her and make her assume wrong things when she wasn’t assuming them to begin with, and when she immediately realizes he just wanted to keep the oath she goes back to OH, like... she was presuming they’d withhold it from the beginning when she mentioned it along with arya, so it’s her now knowing she was right and go like OH FUCK I FUCKED UP, but like... jaime baby ily but just tell her from the get go right? nah, I guess. buuut let’s go on.

“I know what you thought.” Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. “When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King’s Justice,” he told her. “But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn a new sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You’re holding one. So you’ll be defending Ned Stark’s daughter with Ned Stark’s own steel, if that makes any difference to you.”

“Ser, I . . . I owe you an apolo . . .”

He cut her off. “Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There’s a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it’s naught to me. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

“Jaime . . .”

“Kingslayer,” he reminded her. “Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We’re done.”

Stubbornly, she persisted. “Joffrey was your . . .”

now not that I don’t think that jaime wasn’t pushing her also in... outright denial of not wanting her to go, but: now he’s angry at her (when he technically got her angry when he could have not) and wants her to go and he’s telling her again in the sarcasticselfdefense tone and she immediately - immediately - tries to apologize, he shuts her off, doesn’t tell her that the mare is not homely at all, and tells her it’s naught to him when it’s all to him since she knows what his honor means to him, she goes from ‘ser’ (honorific) to ‘jaime’ (personal) and he goes back to ‘nah I’m the kingslayer see that’s all I’ll ever be leave’, except that... she doesn’t leave and she persists, stubbornly, because she actually wants to know, and presses asking about joffrey since she knows he was his father and is most likely still WTFFFFF HE’S BETRAYING HIS FAMILY...

“My king. Leave it at that.”

“You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?”

Because Joff was no more to me than a squirt of seed in Cersei’s cunt. And because he deserved to die. “I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.” Jaime smiled thinly. “Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?”

Her big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. “I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother’s sake. And for yours.” She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went.

she expects him to say his son? he say ‘his king’ and LEAVE IT AT THAT, giving the idea he doesn’t care, and at that point she goes like okay so why would you protect the person you said killed him, fair question right, which I think on her side was... wanting to see what he’d reply because she’s realizing he won’t answer straight right, and exactly he thinks ‘joffrey deserved it and was nothing to me’ but doesn’t tell her that, he tells her that he made kings and unmade them, fair, and then that sansa is his last chance at honor, and smiles thinly (not hard like before), which suggests he’s visually being sincere, and it’s an answer brienne would get... and then he reminds her that he’s called a kingslayer and she is called one and neither of them actually were in the wrong but they both have bad fame for it and they should band together and pledge their oath, and... brienne gets it because she stops asking questions, takes the sword and goes, but instead of falling for his bait or be angry about being called a kingslayer, she says she’ll fulfill their oath and find sansa for catelyn’s sake and for his sake too, pointing out she’s swearing a vow to him too before she leaves after bowing, which basically seals it...

which means that she walked in with a good impression of him, he challenged it, then she realized it wasn’t wrong and he just was shit as communicating and she’s not... expecting the worse anymore? anytime she thinks of him in affc is as the honorable man who saved her and she swore a vow to and she wishes would be with her on her quest, not as someone she doesn’t trust. so, to go with your questions:

1) brienne still expects the worst from him and thinks he wants her to kill sansa?

as stated from the above: she doesn’t :)

2) can b ever fully trust and love jaime?

she was about to die for him at the end of affc, I think she already does X°D

3) will brienne ever accept that jaime loves her and is capable of good or will she always expect evil from him/ be insecure + expect him to pull a ronnet?

she’s already... not? I mean, accepting he loves her might be a problem because she doesn’t conceive he would as it is and it’d take a while for her to not be insecure, but that he’s capable of good she already does, and she’s way past expecting him to pull a ronnet XD she doesn’t even compare them once like... I don’t see how this would be a thing X°DD

4) i think this will cause problems for them if they ever get together. do you think it would be a deal-breaker?

I don’t because like... okay her being insecure might eventually but honestly she wanted to die for him anon and she was convinced of his good intentions the moment she walked into the room and then he threw her in for a loop and she came out of that even more convinced soooooo no I really don’t think it would XD

#jaime x brienne #janie writes meta #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #asoiafmeta #otp: i dreamed of you #Anonymous #ask post #a song of ice and fire #ch: brienne of tarth #ch: jaime lannister #otp: i only rescue maidens #het ship of my heart #only slightly less toxic than chernobyl's ruins #anti-cersei lannister #anti-cersei #anti-lannincest #anti-jaime x cersei

98 notes · View notes

milkypompon · 4 years ago

Text

𝕄𝕪 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖 | Zuko x Reader

𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 | In Ba Sing Se, Zuko stumbles into Y/N, an artist.

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Thank you to my lovely Anon for requesting this! It's been sitting in my inbox gathering dust for a bit because I've been so busy with moving into a new house. Here we are now!! I’m still slowly trying to get back into writing, so please take it easy on me.

The morning dew of Ba Sing Se adorned the growing grass along the stone paved ground. With each step closer to the well-known Jasmine Dragon tea shop, Y/N’s brushes and paints rattled inside their bag slung lazily about their shoulder. The chirping of the birds was drowned out by the early bustle of the city. But the sight of the sky wasn’t one that could simply be ignored.

Without a second thought Y/N plopped themselves down in the middle of a street gorged with rolling carts carrying products cultured and collected by the stocky owners who heaved it around. Y/N earned looks of confusion and occasional glances of annoyance as they blocked the vendors and passer-byers.

But how? How could these people ignore the early white rays of the sun slowly catching hues of yellow as it languidly reached down onto those who lived among the earth. Reaching and stretching with open arms to feel its warmth. The heat enough to satiate the chill breeze that pricked their unclothed arms.

The bristles of the brush was damp with the colors resembling the scenery set in front of Y/N. They glided it along the block of paper tottering on their thigh.

Only the sound of the fraying brush swirling in ever-changing water could be heard by them.

Only the sight of the endless sky that lay behind the glistening sun could be seen by them.

“WATCH OUT!” A gruff voice shouted and chanted the same two words that came threateningly closer to Y/N’s ears.

A horse-bear with tattered reins hung about its large frame losely, growling and galloping at an unmatched speed. Before Y/N could even set down their painting, a body slammed into their back, sending them both tumbling forward into a cabbage cart with a body-straining thud.

Y/N groaned, their hands clenching and unclenching subconsciously to feel their surroundings.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” A black haired boy towered over them. He threw his arms into the air in frustration.

“Yeah! What he said!” Spat the cabbage vendor in annoyance.

Y/N slowly propped themselves up with their elbows. Their eyes grew as wide as the cabbages as they took in the unraveling scene.

“MY ART SUPPLIES!” Y/N scrambled up, almost slipping on their own two feet. They took a quick step forward, but was stopped by a strong grip around their wrist.

Y/N’s head whipped back in surprise, they were met with amber eyes hidden behind furrowed brows and tousled hair. “Not even a thank you?” He cocked up his eyebrow.

“I- Sorry! I mean thank you!” Y/N craned their neck down in embarrassment, they could feel an intense heat crawling up their body.

He awkwardly patted the top of Y/N’s head. “Oh- okay, no need for formalities,” the boy hummed.

Y/N slowly straightened up, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “Let me at least thank you with a meal!” they chirped.

“How about my apology meal for the cabbages you ruined!” The cabbage vendor peeked over the boy’s shoulder to give Y/N an exasperated look.

“Usually, people ask for my name before they take me out on a date,” he chuckled teasingly.

“N-no!” Y/N’s hand shot up in a halt motion. “I mean unless you want it to be…” they muttered to themselves.

A faint dusting of pink spread onto his cheeks, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind it!”

Y/N, completely enthralled by his softening features, forgot about their art supplies sitting in a wrecked state on the stone floor.

A quite pitiful sight.

He looked past Y/N, his eyes dropping down, “Oh, no… your painting!” Without much thought, the boy slipped his hand through Y/N’s to guide them to the horse-bear accident.

Y/N stiffened at the sudden contact, which wasn’t ignored by him. He turned his head back and dropped his hand, “S-sorry! Just wanted to show you what happened…”

The gentle warmth of his hand gave Y/N a sensation of warmth, it left as quickly as it came. They pulled their arm and crossed it behind their back. “Well, the damage has been done, huh?” Y/N smiled sadly as they poked the snapped brushes with the tip of their boot.

He crouched down to reach for Y/N’s painting, now mangled up into scratchy bits. Before the boy could take a good look at it, Y/N swung themselves in front of him in an attempt to hide their unfinished work. But, his nimble fingers flung it up high above his head before they could snatch it

“Hey! That’s mine!” Y/N puffed out their cheeks.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to see what you were painting-”

“Nothing special!” they managed to grip his arm and grab the painting.

The pair stood up. Y/N cradled their work in their hands, a deep sigh escaped their lips. The boy peered from the side. Catching his peeping eyes, Y/N hugged it into their chest.

Zuko scratched the back of his neck, “Y’know just because it seems ruined in your eyes, it doesn’t mean that it’s not a masterpiece to mine.”

Y/N mumbled a “thanks” before turning around to meet his bright eyes. “I’m Y/N by the way…” they said in a small voice, recollecting the early moments of their first encounter.

“Lee,” he offered a hand for Y/N to shake, but instead, Zuko snatched the painting from their arms and tucked it inside his robe. “I’ll take this for compensation!” He grinned light-heartedly.

Y/N rolled their eyes, “I don’t know why you’d want that, but alright… Anyways, the offer still stands for the meal just because I’m feeling generous today.”

Zuko smirked, “Are you feeling extra generous to officiate it into a date?”

They quickly averted their eyes and mumbled, “I thought it was already implied.”

“Knock, knock!” Y/N chirped as they approached the Jasmine Dragon dimly lit, signaling their closure for the night.

The sound of clambering dishware and squeaky shoes echoed through the tea shop. There were no people save for the old man at the opposite end of the green carpet, who greeted Y/N with a small wave. Zuko, who creased down his robe, approached them at a hasty speed.

“H-Hey!” He said a little strained. The old man elbowed Zuko’s side, earning him a groan.

The pair bowed at Y/N. “You must be my nephew’s date tonight. My name is Mushu, but you may call me Uncle!” He gave the young teenager a bright smile.

“Well, I’ll leave ya at it, Nephew!” Iroh cackled as he held his belly. Zuko groaned once again. “And, close up for the night will ya?” He tossed a single golden key with the Jasmine Dragon logo engraved into the head of it.

The pair watched the old man trot to the wooden doors, closing it, but leaving a gap big enough only for them to see his smirk.

“BYE UNCLE!” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose.

Y/N giggle into their hand, “You must be really close with Uncle Mushu, huh?”

Zuko looked up at them, his face softened as he subconsciously studied their face. He stared at how their lips turned up at any word he said and the way their nose scrunched when they laughed. But what interested him the most was when Y/N’s cheeks changed just the slightest hue whenever they smiled.

“Y’know this isn’t much of me repaying you if you’re gonna be serving me your tea,” Y/N tilted their head.

Zuko mindlessly slipped their hand into Y/N’s, making them tense up once again.

“I- Sorry, it’s just your hand is so soft and it feels cool when I touch it because mine are always warm all the time. Are mine sweaty? Maybe it’s just getting hot-” Zuko pulled back his hand.

Y/N caught his eye and slipped their hand into his. “Don’t worry, it feels right as it should be.”

“W-Well, going back to what we were talking about…” Zuko led Y/N to a table for two and pulled out a finely carved wooden chair that could sit even the King himself. “How about you pay me in a different way?”

The pair both realized what Zuko implied, causing his face to seer over. He slammed his hands down, making Y/N flinch, “Just, uh, wait here!” He trotted to the back of the tea shop.

Y/N leaned into their hands, their elbows on the table supporting their dropping frame. They groaned in exasperation.

I thought my first encounter with this boy set the highest bar of my awkwardness, but now I think this ‘date’ brought it up even higher… People make it so easy in those Ba Sing Se cartoons I watch with freakishly large eyes.

Fumbling footsteps approached Y/N, who creased their robe down and clasped their hands together onto their lap. Zuko held a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper. Setting it down on the table, he pulled out a chair across from Y/N.

Zuko rested his chin on his hand, he looked at Y/N with glimmering eyes. A look of interest and adoration seeped through his face, anyone could’ve seen it, whether he was hiding it or not. He’s only given this face to his Uncle, whom he respected and loved with a full heart.

His long fingers tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear nervously. “What are you waiting for? Open it!” Zuko huffed, “Guess I’ll open it myself!” He slipped his hand over the package.

Still stunned at the unexpected gift Y/N received, they took no action until they heard the first rip of the wrapping paper. “No! I can do it!” Y/N shouted a little too loudly, “I mean, I’ll open it.” Hastily, they tore it apart, the clambering of wooden handles of new brushes and a soft thud of a watercolor block and paints echoed through the tea shop.

Zuko grinned at the sight of Y/N’s face as it glowed with happiness. It looked as if he’d received a new set of art supplies as well.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Y/N, their upturned smile quickly diminished.

“Huh… What’s wrong? Are these not the ones you had? Did you want a different brand-” Zuko scooped up the art supplies, which was stopped by Y/N’s gentle hand.

“I can’t accept this! Or at least let me pay for it,” Y/N bargained.

Zuko set the gift down, offering them a soft smile. “This is what I was talking about earlier. Will you paint something for me? Could be anything you like.”

“Y-you’d really like that?” Y/N sheepishly asked.

“More than anything…” Zuko cautiously entwined his fingers into Y/N’s, this time Y/N returned it with a gentle squeeze.

“Well, then how about I paint you?”

Zuko was stunned. He rambled, “M-me? Why? I’m not the most pleasing to look at to be honest. I’ve got a scar that’s just so distracting… That’s why I’m growing out my hair-”

Y/N stood up from their seat and leaned over the table to meet his face, bringing a hand to caress Zuko’s jaw. Y/N gave a warm peck of their lips onto the corner of his right eye.

His mouth gaped open as they pulled back and situated themself on the seat.

Y/N held Zuko’s gaze, “A wise boy once told me that just because something seems ruined in your eyes, it doesn’t mean that it’s not a masterpiece to mine.”

𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Okay, Holy Cow. I’m actually really happy with how this fic turned out bc I’ve been too physically and mentally tired lately?? I had a hard time starting this, but I decided to take the safe route and start with scenery.

Were the descriptions of scenery too much? Was the interaction between Y/N and Zuko too short-lived? Let me know!

[My taglist and links to most things are acting WONKY at the moment, if you’d like to be tagged on anything, SEND AN ASK]

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagines #atla #atla imagines #avatar #avatar imagines #zuko fic

107 notes · View notes

mimicteruyo · 3 years ago

Text

A Looming Resonance

Time stands still.

The air is dust. The dust is darkness. The darkness is a void of time. And time...

Time stands still.

How...

Time stands still.

How long have I been here?

Time stands still.

Why?

Time stands still.

The question isn't why I'm dead. That was never a mystery. The answer was obvious from the start.

The real question is

why am I still here?

Time stands still.

I said I would follow them. Is that why I'm here?

Time stands still.

Watching. Guarding. Waiting. Are those purposes that keep me here?

Time stands still.

Kill.

Is that why I'm here?

Kill.

That's it, isn't it?

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Kill who?

Kill. Kill. Kill.

The murderer?

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Kill the murderer.

Time stands still.

"You still haven't forgiven me."

Daylight filters in through the door. It reveals the rash has spread close to Lady Miko's hairline, but it brings new life to her face.

A heart too loud and too fast. A galloping pulse.

A pulse.

I wait. It wasn't a plea; she has never once pleaded for anything. It was a statement. It requires no answer but a look.

"But you're here today as well."

My mouth doesn't feel like it belongs to me, but it moves all the same. "Forgiving you and staying by your side are two different things."

"Well. I'm grateful."

"As grateful as you're regretful?"

For some reason, this elicits a real smile from her, the first one today. That isn't so strange. What is strange is that she doesn't hurry to say more. Maybe she agrees with me. Maybe she too believes the time for explanations, for excuses, for endless, endless justifications, has finally ended. Now is the time for silence. The silence which is the truth.

Or, more likely, she's too tired to say much.

In any case, she cannot say she's sorry. Because she isn't. She isn't sorry for anything.

Time stands still.

There is a slight breeze outside. It roars like thunder.

Lady Miko's hands tremble as she lays them on her lap. In her expression there is no tremor, however, only placid thoughtfulness. "You can go rest. No-one will come to bother me."

"We don't know that."

"Futo will take care of it."

Breathe, breathe.

I don't need to breathe.

"She will until you tell her to let someone in. We both know you want to be bothered, even after you were specifically told to rest. And she won't be able to say no."

"I doubt being scolded is good for my constitution, either."

Time stands still.

Her eyes fix where I knew they would. "I was serious before. Should you really hold this vigil without breaks?"

"It's fine. I can do this much."

"I can do this much for her."

The air is dust. The dust is darkness.

The dust paints swirls onto the screen behind Lady Miko. The air is thick with it. Should I crack the door open? No-one should be near, and the vast majority of the time I've spent in this room has been in

a void of time.

Lady Miko sees the dust too. Her eyes follow it away from me. It's good to see clarity in them again. "I wouldn't have expected indolence to be this taxing." Her expression is ironic. "If nothing else, this is good practice for the mortuary."

The jewel is here. Where is the sword?

"No, I figured that wouldn't make you smile."

Time stands still.

Lady Miko speaks again, and the words flow through me as I'm both far away and locked within my skull. Perhaps the truth has already been spoken and I didn't hear it because I was too busy slipping out of my body.

They keep coming. Words rushing from underwater, thickening and suffocating and filling the grooves on her palms before expanding and shattering, shattering.

"It turns out I have always been a coward."

"What did you say?"

I don't want—

A loosened arrow, a breaking branch. A pulse rising to fever pitch. It was, as I keep listening and meet a wall of silence, most likely a bird taking flight from the roof. No use telling that to my frantic heart.

I force myself to settle back down. Turning sends shooting pains across my chest and to my neck, and so I still. It subsides.

Pain is a very distant thing now

as I sit here in the dark

as I sit here in the light

and the light-headedness when I'm upright is far more annoying. Not that it matters while I'm still, half fused with

the door and the shadows

as water wells up through the cracks in the earth.

What happened to the knife?

"Tojiko."

She looks at me. For the first time since the poison seeped through her, she meets my eyes. Somehow, I didn't notice that she hasn't done that until now.

The mirror lies shattered on the floor. I have no memory of it intact.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

Moonlight dances on the water where the wind weaves across the lake.

"I can't hear as well in this body as I once could, but when it's quiet, I can still hear your desires."

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Sitting in the sunlit room, in the tomb, in the labyrinth, feeling the crackle of thunder beneath skin that isn't my own, I do what I always do. I wait.

I wait.

She waits, too. But there is nothing left to say.

Well, maybe one thing. Because her eyes are dimming again. "Do you need water?"

"Not right now." It's there again, that genuine smile wilting at the edges. "Thank you."

Those rare words summon the silence. Companionable. Suffocating. Resigned.

Permanent.

Time stands still.

The air is dust. The dust is darkness. The darkness is a void of time.

To think they feared death.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Enough with that insistent pulse. I have no need for one now.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Enough with my will not being my will.

Kill.

Enough.

Silence. Silence and dust.

Time stands still.

That's fine. I will wait. I will linger. I will survive.

Because here's the thing. I can still see it. That light. That shimmering radiance.

I don't need to drink. I don't need to breathe. I can wait out the dust, and the darkness, and the lightning that's my blood now insisting to be unleashed. I can wait it all out.

That light.

Time stands still.

#mimic fics #no idea if this'll ever go on ao3 #let me know if you want it there i guess #maybe one day i'll actually finish the thing this damn thing spawned from #anyway now that this is out of my system maybe i can finally get to work on something more normal

2 notes · View notes